Closer
by TheVintagePearls
Summary: My take on what we didn't see in 1x09 of Lucy and Wyatt talking in the kitchen up until the moment before their talk of "possibilities".


A/N: Never thought I would post again so soon, but here we are. Clearly, I like the Bonnie & Clyde ep. Thanks for all the support on Runaway Thoughts, it means a lot :) This fic sprung out of two places: 1) I wanted some bad dreams in bed with some comfort in that ep and 2) I saw someone (maybe Once Upon a Whim?) post about wanting to know/write about what happened before Lucy and Wyatt went to share the bed. As I started writing, I ended up including my take on it here (but whoever suggested it, etc., I would love to see more takes on that specific moment since it wasn't shown on the ep! It's not really written about at all, if I'm not mistaken). Also, sorry for all of my ocean metaphors/symbolism, it just happened. Enjoy!

" _As soon as they fall asleep, we grab the key, find Rufus, and get the hell out of here_ ," Wyatt whispered harshly.

"Oh y'all should spend the night here! It's far too late now to be drivin' and we have an extra bed!" Bonnie exuberantly called out.

"Wouldn't dream of leavin'!" Wyatt sarcastically answered back, rolling his eyes.

"So professor," he muttered as he turned towards her, her arms still braced on the edge of the sink. "In all those history books you've read, anything about a key that apparently leads to our impending doom?"

"Nothing," Lucy whispered quietly. "Rittenhouse must be much more underground than we're realizing. And if they're working underground, they definitely don't want to be found." She sighed and turned to face him. "It's just so... _frustrating_. The history I know and love seems to be strewn with Rittenhouse goons, intent on destroying history, however the hell they accomplish that, and...I just feel useless."

"Lucy," Wyatt interjected, "don't you ever say you're useless. I'm actually convinced your brain is the size of Russia. Trust me, I've seen lots of Russia, so I have a pretty good idea of it's size."

Lucy couldn't help but crack a smile at that.

"Your smarts alone have gotten us out of countless death traps. Just because some Rittenhouse assholes are trying to mess up this timeline doesn't mean you'll let them. Or that Rufus or I will let them," Wyatt said intently.

"Is Wyatt Logan actually caring about keeping historical events intact?" said Lucy with feigned surprise. "I thought I'd never live to see the day!" she said, using a Southern accent.

"Okay, remind me to never let you use that accent again," Wyatt said, laughing. "Look, I may think sometimes that changing history would be for the better." Lucy snorted, remembering his stubbornness on their previous missions. "But you, me, and Rufus," he continued, "are a team now, and we make decisions as a team. I trust Rufus. I trust you."

Although he had spoken the same words with even more conviction during their time at Castle Varlar, the words held a new kind of weight for Lucy now in 1934, ten years earlier, thousands of miles away.

Because they had kissed for the first time just a few hours earlier...and feelings she hadn't realized were present all along rose to the surface the moment she learned how his lips felt on hers.

It wasn't an act when she kissed him back.

She pushed aside her traitorous thoughts and focused on his ocean-blue eyes looking at her. "I trust you too," she said with all the sincerity she could muster. "Thank you, Wyatt."

"Anytime, ma'am," he answered with a smile. Lucy rolled her eyes in annoyance but smiled back. Because she suddenly couldn't get enough of that nickname.

"So," Wyatt whispered, "let's go check out these five-star accommodations, shall we?"

And the reality of sharing a bed with Wyatt Logan hit her as fast as the Lifeboat jolting them to another period in time.

* * *

They both eyed the bed warily.

"The epitome of space, huh? Guess they haven't heard of a king size bed yet," Wyatt muttered.

"King and queen size mattresses weren't introduced until the 40s," explained Lucy.

"Not that our friends in the other room would need it," Wyatt countered.

"Wyatt!" Lucy whispered loudly, smacking him across the arm.

"Not because they won't make it to the 40s!" Wyatt explained, causing Lucy to purse her lips together. "Ok, not _just_ because of that. C'mon, they're basically attached at the mouth! They'll be on each other until they fall asleep-"

The second the words were out of Wyatt's mouth, he was suddenly reminded of a few hours earlier, of the kiss that convinced Clyde that he and Lucy were married. A kiss that was all an act but had somehow brought to the surface something he hadn't felt in almost five years...

It wasn't an act when he kept holding her face just as she held his. Because he wanted to pull her toward him and kiss her again. And she was going to be even closer to him this time on this tiny bed.

 _Lord_ , it was going to be a long night.

Lucy suddenly pulled him out of his reverie by asking him what side he preferred.

"This side is fine with me," Wyatt sighed, pointing at the left side of the bed. As they sat on their respective sides of the bed and began to remove their clothes, a sudden ache sprouted in his heart. The kiss, the bed-sharing, the side-choosing...things he had shared with Jess. His thoughts landed on the journal entry Flynn had read him back in D.C. that journal-Lucy had written...were his thoughts of Jess becoming an obsession? Suddenly, frustration, sadness, and confusion egged him on all at once, threatening hot tears to fall as he shut his eyes and laid on the bed.

That is, until Lucy laid down with his arm on top of his, shoving it into his side for more space. He retaliated by putting his arm on top of hers ten seconds later, but she then upped the stakes by tossing both her arm and shoulder over his arm and shoulder.

Turning to balance on his elbow to look at her and jokingly threaten to push her off the bed, he felt his throat go dry.

Because as she stared up at him in lace with big brown eyes and soft black curls and vulnerability, Wyatt realized how truly beautiful Lucy Preston was.

Pushing, but really filing, the thought away, Wyatt muttered with a half-laugh, "Look I would sleep on the floor if I could, but—"

"I know, it's okay," Lucy said, averting her eyes from his gaze. Bonnie and Clyde will turn in for the night soon anyways and they'll see our sleeping arrangements. Honestly, I doubt they would let us live long enough for an explanation, since they'd probably pin us for undercover cops or something."

"Great. Guess privacy isn't a thing in 1934 either. Fantastic," Wyatt huffed as he laid down on the bed again.

As they laid on their backs staring at the ceiling, sleep slowly enveloping them, Lucy sleepily proclaimed, "My arm is going on top. It's lighter."

Wyatt chuckled at her reasoning as he let her arm and shoulder come over his again, feeling it bend at the elbow to lay across her slim body. "'Night Lucy."

"Goodnight, Wyatt."

* * *

When Lucy woke with a start, all the lamps were out in the cabin and the stars were shining brightly through the window. With the lack of light, she presumed Bonnie and Clyde had also gone to bed for the night. So why had she woken up?

Her question was answered when she looked over at the heavily breathing, mildly thrashing form of Wyatt next to her.

Wyatt was having a nightmare.

Her thoughts immediately raced back to the Alamo mission, when she suspected Wyatt was having flashbacks throughout the mission, possibly about his time at war. Could this be a similar reaction to his wartime regrets?

At the Alamo, she absolutely hated seeing the mix of pain and conviction streaked across his face as bullets streaked across the sky above them. She hated that he had wanted to stay and die there, a choice born out of underserved regret. And as much as she had hated seeing him in pain then, she hated it even more now, as pain took over his sleep as well. Taking away that pain became her utmost priority again, and to hell with the way platonic co-workers should be acting. They crossed that line a long time ago.

Lucy rolled to her side to face him and sat up on her elbow. Muffled "no's" began to escape his lips, growing louder by the second. Knowing better than to shake him from when she comforted her sister through nightmares, she slid her left hand across his chest and rested it over his heart, rubbing back and forth with her thumb.

"Wyatt, shh, it's okay, you're safe, I'm here. It's just a dream. I'm here," Lucy calmly whispered, hoping Bonnie & Clyde wouldn't hear from a few feet away.

After a few more soothing words of comfort, Wyatt's eyes blinked open. As Lucy's face came into view, she saw his eyes fill with relief and calm, but not after being quickly followed by a wave of embarrassment with a hint of anger.

"Lucy... _God_...I'm _so_ sorry," Wyatt said, placing his hand over his eyes.

"Wyatt, please don't apologize," keeping her eyes on him and her hand on his heart. "You know, nightmares lose their power over you if you talk about them."

Wyatt scoffed. "I've heard that one before. Trust me, it's nothing. Let's get back to sleep."

"Okay," Lucy murmured a bit dejectedly. As she started to withdraw her hand, however, Wyatt realized in a split second that he didn't want to put on another act. Especially not with Lucy. He felt a ferocious need to confide in her. Thinking but also not thinking at the same time, his right hand reached up to stop her hand from retreating. "Wait," he said, fingers lightly intertwining with hers and dragging their hands back to his heart.

He sighed, and made the decision to open up, literally and figuratively. His left arm came out from between him and Lucy, wordlessly inviting her to settle up against him. She responded by eyeing his arm and then his eyes briefly. In his eyes, she saw his complete and utter trust in her, and hoped she also conveyed her trust in him as she nestled her body next to him and laid her head in the crook of his neck. She felt his arm encircle her waist.

After a few minutes of laying in silence next to each other, hands still intertwined, with the glow of the stars through the window and Lucy trying but failing miserably to not revel in her closeness to Wyatt and the feeling of his arm around her, Wyatt spoke.

"The flashbacks started a few years after coming back from Syria, but the nightmares came almost instantly. I...had hoped they wouldn't come tonight."

Lucy remained quiet, only rubbing her thumb across his heart again, letting him know she was listening.

"It's always the same scene: My team sending me off with the important intel while they all stayed behind and died. It's just worse because I know the end result. I know they won't make it back. I try to stay behind with them but they refuse to let me. Flashbacks are worse because I actually see all the guys there, wherever I am, giving me the suitcase. At the Alamo...I had flashbacks."

"I had a hunch," Lucy murmured.

"I wish you hadn't," Wyatt replied, "Agent Christopher knows about my PTSD, and has somehow still kept me on the team, but I didn't want you or Rufus to know. I don't want my flashbacks and other symptoms to get in the way of the mission and-"

"Wyatt—" Lucy started, turning her face up to look at him.

"No, Lucy, it's true," he said, meeting her eyes. "I don't want more people getting hurt on my account."

Sitting up now, squeezing their intertwined hands still over his heart, willing desperately to take his burden away, Lucy began. "Wyatt, I know there are a lot of things you blame yourself for and hold so much regret for. But you are so much more than those things." At Wyatt's protests, Lucy held up her hand to stop him. "Let me finish," she said warningly. Wyatt quieted in surrender. "For starters, you've been the protector of this team since the beginning even if it was just your job back then, saving Rufus's life and my life more than once on our first mission despite, you know, almost blowing my brains out." Seeing Wyatt smile, Lucy continued, "You give incredible advice, even if you're stubborn enough to not take any yourself, and you're brilliant."

"So flashbacks or no flashbacks," she continued with reverence, "I want you on this team. There's nobody else that can do this job like you can. I meant what I said at the Alamo. That's why Rufus and I fought to keep you with us. We don't want anybody else." And before Lucy could stop the words from falling out, she softly admitted, "I need you."

Once again previous words spoken to each other and repeated again took on more weight as she again remembered their shared kiss that night. She was suddenly even more aware of their closeness to each other on the tiny twin bed.

Without giving her time to process, Wyatt let go of their hands and sat up facing her.

"Thanks, Lucy. It...means a lot..that someone still believes in me."

Lucy grabbed his hand and gave it another squeeze. "Rufus does too. And Agent Christopher. And Jiya. And I'm always here if, you need to get over the hump again," she said with a smile.

Their eyes met and Lucy swore she could see Wyatt's eyes sparkle as they gazed at her. The unspoken emotions rose up between them and Lucy felt them falling down a cliff, snowballing its way into something more within her, something she was scared to embrace, but desperately wanted to embrace all the same. She realized she was still holding his hand because she didn't want to let go of neither his hand nor the moment. This was a dream. It had to be. Being in this bed, so close to Wyatt, holding his hand, his fingers lightly intertwining with hers again, his eyes flicking to her lips, his warm hand tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, his breath on her face...

And then Bonnie and Clyde lived up to Wyatt's earlier expectations. Loudly.

Wyatt and Lucy looked away and chuckled nervously, letting go of each other's hand, as remnants of the heavy moment still hung in the air, and bits of dawn began filtering through the window.

"By the way, about earlier, I'm sorry for kiss—"

"I know, we'll talk about it later, they should fall asleep again any minute," Lucy interrupted, wanting to remain in the bubble of this moment with Wyatt, before he popped it with the "it was just an act" needle. She didn't want to acknowledge that she had seen regret in his eyes earlier when they kissed, but there it was, resurfacing.

She laid down again on her back, and realized for the first time they had fallen asleep waiting for Bonnie and Clyde to fall asleep. And when they woke up, they didn't bother to take advantage of the fact that the couple was asleep. She couldn't believe she let her mind slip away from the real reason they were here. While mentally scolding herself, she was caught by surprise when Wyatt leaned over and kissed her forehead before lying on his back again. Her breath caught and she closed her eyes, wanting to memorize the touch of his lips on her skin, her mind slipping once more into her earlier state of stupefaction, where the world beyond their twin bed didn't exist.

The backs of their hands remained touching between them as they laid there listening to any signs of Bonnie and Clyde slumbering, both needing each other's touch without admitting it to themselves, slowly becoming redefined by their feelings for each other.

" _I thought you said they would pass out_." Lucy whispered, after what felt like ages of hearing the other couple go at it.

" _Maybe if they ever came up for air_ ," Wyatt retorted.

And as Lucy and Wyatt shakily agreed much later on their shared kiss being an act, purposefully avoiding their prior closeness and new possibilities, their very true feelings also never came up for air, drowned in seas of doubt and guilt as they walked away from each other.

Note: Both here and in Runaway Thoughts, I don't own the characters, places, etc. of _Timeless_ , nor the words in italics of both fics.


End file.
